ODE TO HAMBONE

Despite his size, Hambone sort of sneaks in
unnoticed, scanning the room, spotting a
familiar face, his eyes light up and
a drawn out smile emerges on his face.

From uncombed hair to black-horned rimmed glasses,
to sandaled feet his grace and presence bid
the world like a well-worn chair to sit, rest,
listen and take a load off for awhile.

He doesn’t sit as much as fit in the
space between the bench and the piano,
a breathing symbiotic partner who
gives life and coaxes beauty from within.

A preacher’s kid who hears the silences
between the notes and plays them deftly as
the sure sounds summoned by his long fingers
lead our hearts to blissful remembrances.

Notes so sweet, his special girl thinks he plays
just for her, and so she sings of “whis-KAY”
and dreams of nights danced on the kitchen floor
and mornings when dogs woke them with their tongues.